Sacked

by Tabatha Vargo

  Her words smashed into me like the truck, rocking my body and making me gasp. I searched her face, waiting for her to take it back, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked down at me with strong determination and tears in her eyes.

  She loved me, and I felt her declaration like a hammer to the chest.

  I nodded.

  Exhausted, I gave up. Relaxing back into the hospital bed, I let my eyes close to block out reality. Sleep came on out of nowhere, relieving my brain from my crazy thoughts, and blackness consumed me.

  The stadium was overflowing with fans, everyone chanting my name; they had a number ten, my number, painted on their cheeks or a jersey they were wearing. This was the big time. I’d made it to the NFL with a sweet contract. All my dreams had come true. I was floating on cloud nine and nothing could bring me down.

  The whistle blew and the ball snapped in my hands. My eyes tracked the field twice before connecting with my receiver. He was right where he should be. I took a couple of steps back, ready to launch the ball, but the ball wasn’t there. I turned in circles, desperately searching for the ball, but it was nowhere to be found.

  The stadium turned into a riot, the fans angry and ready to charge the field.

  My chest was heaving, panic rose up, and the world around me spun out of control. I covered my face with my hands, only my right hand wasn’t there. My arm was gone. Pain lanced my side …

  I jerked awake. Relief flooded me. It was just a fucking dream. And then reality crashed around me once again, reminding me that my nightmare had come true.

  I had no idea how long I was out, but Gretchen still sat in her chair, her small hand in mine. I should have felt comfort from that, but I hated it. My life was over. Soon, I’d have nothing to offer her and that wasn’t fair. She deserved better.

  I knew what my kind of injury meant to a quarterback. Either I’d be out for months while I killed myself in physical therapy, or the doc would tell me it didn’t matter how much therapy I went through, I’d never play again.

  Closing my eyes tightly, I pressed the tears back and let sleep sweep over me once more. This time, there were no dreams, just the blissful trip away from reality.

  A soft voice beside me pulled from my sleep … Gretchen.

  Light was shining beyond my eyelids. Opening them, I was met with the bright sun shining through the window in my room. I grimaced and turned my head to the side, my eyes landing on Gretchen. She gave me a strained smile.

  My eyes fell closed again and sleep threatened.

  “Hi,” she said wearily. Obviously, she hadn’t gotten much sleep sitting in the chair beside my bed. “How you feeling?”

  I scoffed. “Like I got hit by a fucking truck, how do you think I feel?”

  It was wrong. There she was, at my bedside without sleep. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were swollen from crying. She was beyond tired, if the bags under her eyes were any indication, but still, I couldn’t help but feel so much anger. I really needed to stop being such a prick.

  “Jesus, dude, you don’t need to be such a jackass to her.” A male voice echoed in my ears.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight, groaning.

  Jacob fucking Byrd.

  “Get out!” I roared.

  Gretchen jumped at the forcefulness of my voice. She didn’t back away, though. Instead, she held my hand tighter, squeezing my fingers. I turned to face her; a rueful smile tipped her perfect lips up.

  “Why the hell is he here?”

  Jacob snorted from the end of the bed. “She can hear you just fine, Sawyer. Stop yelling at her. If you want to yell at someone, yell at me.”

  “Fine,” I ground out, shooting daggers at him from my eyes. “Why the hell are you here?”

  Gretchen answered for him. “Babe, he just wants to talk. To explain some things.”

  Seriously? He wanted to talk? Explain? That was a joke. Not even a funny one.

  If I weren’t laid out in a hospital bed, I would have laid him out. The irony of the situation was beyond fucked up. Jacob had been sacked more times this season than I’d been in my entire football career. Yet there I was, laid out, my career probably ruined, because of a fucking truck. Because I was so in love with some girl that I’d thrown myself in front of a moving vehicle.

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Sawyer, you’re one stubborn son-of-a-bitch. But you always have been.” He shook his head, his eyes dropping away from mine. “I just want to explain why I left. Why we moved away and I had to stay away.”

  “No.” My response was quick and decisive. “I don’t need your petty excuses. Not now. Now with this.” I lifted my right arm, showing him the fucked-up situation. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing you say will change a fucking thing. What’s done is done and you need to leave. Now.”

  “Not until you listen to what I have to say,” he insisted.

  I started to protest, but he talked over me, not giving me the chance.

  “I had to move when we were kids because I was sick. Cancer. Leukemia, actually.” His eyes were distant, even though he looked right at me. “You know all about it, man.”

  His mention of my mom’s sickness made my body go tense.

  “Don’t,” I said, hoping he’d stop.

  I couldn’t think about all this shit right now. I had too much to worry about to bring up the past.

  “You were my best friend, Sawyer. I cried so hard when I found out about your mom. I wanted to be there, man, but I was so sick. I couldn’t leave the hospital. They wouldn’t let me. My immune system was completely compromised by the radiation.

  “When I was finally discharged, I wasn’t even taken back to my house. Instead, they took me straight to my new place. While I was in the hospital, my parents had moved us to Cayce. Momma needed to be close to her family. With me being sick and all, she needed all the help she could get. It was the only way.” He sighed before continuing.

  “I started school the following fall. I was ready to reach out, I wanted my friend back, but when I went for my six-month checkup, the cancer was back. I was homeschooled because of how sick I was. It wasn’t until eighth grade that I was in full remission and my life was mine again.

  “I was determined to gain back the things that I’d lost due to my stupid disease, but by then, it was too late.” He shook his head. “You hated me so much, man. I didn’t know what to do. Instead, I stepped on the field and let your anger fuel you. I gave up hope that we’d ever be friends again.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. All the years that passed. All the time I’d missed my friend and all the hate I’d built up over the years. It was all over nothing. A stupid misunderstanding. I’d been so fucking hardheaded. I didn’t even bother to find out why, and now, I didn’t know what to do with everything he’d just said.

  “Please leave,” I said.

  My tone was indifferent. I know I should have been sympathetic, but I couldn’t feel anything because if I felt one thing, I’d feel everything. I couldn’t let it all in. I’d crumble.

  I knew I’d regret it later, but at that moment, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  “All right, I’ll go.” Jacob turned on his heels and walked out of the room. He looked back when he got to the door, a sad smile on his face, “Thank you for what you did for Gretchen.”

  Without another word, he walked through the door.

  “I can’t believe you did that, Sawyer.” Gretchen’s voice cut through the silence of the room. “You have no clue what it took for him to come here.”

  She stood from her chair, gave my hand one last squeeze, and followed in Jacob’s footsteps. The door clicked behind her with finality, choking me.

  I thought I’d feel better when she left, it was what I wanted, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

  My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I heard about the accident with Gretchen. Her roommate called me with no details other than she was in the hospital. Every possible scenario went through my head while I drove like a bat
out of hell to Camden.

  I rushed to the receptionist manning the desk, and papers flew from her desk from my hard breathing.

  “I’m looking for Gretchen Cole. She was in an accident.”

  Long minutes passed as she looked indifferently at her computer screen. Meanwhile, my anxiety was running rampant.

  “Sorry, sir, she’s not here.”

  “She has to be!” I shouted.

  Then I heard the sweetest damned sound I’d ever heard.

  “Jacob?” Gretchen’s voice wrapped around me like a fuzzy blanket, and I collapsed against the reception desk. “What are you doing here?”

  When I got my bearings, I rushed to her and swept her up in a hug. She laughed and pushed at my chest.

  “They said you were in an accident. I was so damned worried.”

  Her expression dropped and frown lines creased her forehead. Her lips were pale and pressed into a grim line. The tears that were slowly filling her eyes broke over her lashes and rushed over her cheeks.

  She shook her head. “Not me. Sawyer.” Her voice so small, tears sliding down her cheeks and diving from her chin onto her shirt. “I was so stupid, Jacob. I was upset so I ran. I just wanted to get away from him. I just wanted to get to my car. I was so distracted that I didn’t look …” Her voice cracked, and I pulled her to my chest, hugging her close. “He saved me.”

  A sob broke from her chest as she trembled in my arms. I hadn’t seen her this upset since her momma died, and my heart broke for her. All I could do was rub her back softly and hold her as she let it all out.

  Gretchen had always been there for me, sometimes pulling me off my deathbed and forcing me outside when I didn’t think my legs would even move. Some days, I thought she was the only reason I was still alive. As if she refused to let me go, therefore I stayed.

  I had some of the best memories with Gretchen—memories of our nights together, me lying in bed and her moving around my room with a smile. She’d tell me jokes and make me laugh so hard my stomach would hurt, and I didn’t think I’d ever take another breath again.

  Memories of us telling each other everything. Her about guys in school and me about how badly I wished I could even think about dating. She was my best friend, replacing Sawyer, and I was grateful every day that God made us family.

  I held her close, letting her cry while I silently tucked away my grief. I could grieve over my long, lost friend later when Gretchen didn’t need me. I had the opportunity to return the favor and take care of her for once; I wasn’t about to miss that opportunity because I felt like falling into a heap of tears myself.

  I’d missed my chance to tell Sawyer the truth, and he’d died thinking I was a terrible friend—thinking that I’d left him when he needed me the most. It hurt so bad just thinking that I could never fight with him again. That I’d never play him again.

  It wasn’t right. Life was so unfair sometimes. There I was, sick and probably dying, while Sawyer, a perfectly healthy man, was dead before me.

  “God, Jacob, I ruined everything. He’s going to hate me forever,” Gretchen cried.

  Her words washed over me, jarring me so hard I sucked in a deep breath.

  “Wait, what?” I pushed her back slightly so I could look in her eyes.

  Another hiccupping sob ripped from her throat. “He pushed me out of the way of a truck, and the truck hit him. It was horrible. It broke his arm throwing arm, Jacob. He’s going to hate me forever.”

  The breath was knocked from my lungs, and suddenly, I had to sit before I fell. Losing my hold on Gretchen, I stepped away and fell into a chair in the waiting room.

  A broken arm. Not death. Although, a broken arm would be akin to death for a guy like Sawyer. Football was his life and being benched was going to kill him.

  Knowing he was alive and kicking somewhere in the hospital and not dead gave me renewed purpose.

  “I need to talk to him. I have to come clean about everything. It’s time.” I swallowed my nerves.

  It was going to suck telling him the truth, but as I just experienced before I learned the truth, it would suck more if something happened to Sawyer before I had a chance to come clean. “Where is he?” I asked.

  I walked behind her, passing rooms of dying people and reminding myself that it wouldn’t be long before I too was lying on my deathbed. The beeping sounds that came from the rooms were encouraging, but I knew that those beeps could always stop.

  One day soon, mine would. But before that happened, I had to clear the air between Sawyer and me.

  Stepping into his room, my eyes moved over his sleeping form. Sawyer has always been a big guy, working hard to build muscle and be the best. So seeing him lying in the bed all banged up took me aback. It was worse than I imagined. He was fucking lucky, not that he’d see it that way.

  Gretchen and I silently talked, waiting for him to wake up, and I watched as she lovingly touched his hand as if she needed the reassurance that he was alive.

  She loved him. I knew my cousin well enough to know that for sure. And while I should have probably hated it, I couldn’t help but feel good about it. I loved Gretchen, and in my own strange way, I loved Sawyer. When it was my time to go, I’d feel better about leaving both of them knowing they had each other.

  My only hope was that Sawyer loved Gretchen just as much. Although, seeing as how he threw himself in front of a moving vehicle and jeopardized his career, I’d say that was a definite thing.

  He moved to wake up. My nerves were strung tight, and I swallowed hard knowing how difficult it was going to be to release the truth into Sawyer’s world. Still, a man had to do what a man had to do, and after my scare earlier, I knew I couldn’t waste any more time.

  The outcome didn’t surprise me. I knew Sawyer, and while I could see that my words had made a difference in him, I also knew he was mad at the world. Nothing anyone said to him while he was lying in that bed with a broken throwing arm was going to make a bit of difference to him. I knew he needed to breathe it out and blow off some steam. He’d always been like that.

  So leaving his room, I smiled to myself. I was proud of myself for doing something that I’d dreaded for the last ten years of my life. It didn’t work out the way I wanted it to, but at least the twenty-pound weight on my chest was gone.

  Part of me knew when I stepped into his room and spilled my guts that I wasn’t going to get the forgiveness I wanted, but I’d at least hoped for a little understanding. Especially since I knew he’d watched his mother die from cancer. Still, it was out there. I’d said the words that I’d held locked up inside and I no longer felt the pressure that had suffocated me over the years.

  “Jake, wait up.” Gretchen was jogging down the hall toward me, “I’m sorry. He’s just not thinking straight. He’ll come around. He has to.”

  I shook my head before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on her worried brow.

  “It’s all good. I feel better, and I guess that’s all that matters right now.” I leaned over and pressed the button on the elevator for the lobby. “Like he said, it is what it is. I said my peace. The ball’s in his court now.”

  The elevator opened, and I stepped inside. I smiled at Gretchen as the doors closed me in, and for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

  Gretchen never left my side, and while my dad didn’t come to the hospital, he did call to check on me. Talk about an awkward conversation. It was not as if I expected him to show up anyway. The man hadn’t stepped foot in a hospital since my momma died.

  I was in the hospital for two days, getting out just in time to ride the sidelines for the biggest game of the season—Camden versus Newdale. I would have gotten out earlier, but the orthopedic surgeon wanted to make sure there was no infection.

  My arm didn’t just break; it was shattered. There were pins in my fucking arm holding things together, and as I expected, the surgeon confirmed that I may never throw a ball again. It all depended on how my bones healed and how well physical therapy w
orked.

  Luckily, I wasn’t afraid of hard work. I’d worked too hard my entire life for this; I wasn’t about to let go of my dream yet. I still had a chance, and I was going to make sure by next season my arm was in tip-top shape.

  Gretchen drove me home after I was discharged. Instead of leaving as I expected, she settled on the couch next to me, laid her head on my shoulder, and wove her fingers through mine. Something loosened in my chest, and I took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in months. Somehow, I knew we would be okay. And despite my pushing her away at every turn, she stuck by me.

  I didn’t deserve her, but I wasn’t about to let go.

  “I need to tell you something,” I said, prompting her to lift her head from my shoulder and look me in eyes.

  God, she was beautiful and so fucking good-hearted. I didn’t know what I’d done in my life to get her, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.

  Her eyes moved over my face, waiting for me to speak, but at first, the words got stuck in my throat. Finally, after a lot of pushing on my part, I opened my mouth and the words flowed out.

  “You know I’m in love with you, right?” I croaked.

  A tiny grin pulled at the side of her mouth and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I figured as much when you jumped in front of a truck for me.”

  A tear escaped and rushed down her cheek. I wiped it away with my good hand and smiled.

  “The things I said to you … I’m so sorry, baby. I promise never to say anything like that again. And I promise I didn’t sleep with Christine. I couldn’t, babe. I was just so fucked-up over you. I’ve never felt this way about a woman, and it’s scary.”

  She covered my lips with a single finger, stopping me before I could say another word. Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled.

  “I know. And I love you, too.”